Before You Go Page 23

  Mum comes forward and hugs me, and then to my surprise so does Dad.

  ‘Good luck, love,’ he says.

  ‘Er, thanks, Dad.’ I look at Mum but she just shrugs, as confused as I am.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous,’ Jane says, squeezing me then taking a drag on her cigarette.

  ‘I thought you’d given up?’ I indicate the fag hanging from her hand.

  ‘I did. But then I gave up giving up.’ She grins. ‘I’m too weak, Zo, I just can’t do it. Anyway – ’ she tugs the hand of the man she’s standing with, and he falls forward awkwardly, pulling his tie straight – ‘doesn’t Jamie scrub up well?’

  ‘Oh!’ I gasp. ‘It’s Jamie, thirty-eight, from London!’

  ‘Sorry?’

  Jane shoots me an odd look and too late I realize my mistake. This is Jamie from the dating website, but of course the real me – not the impostor here right now – will know Jamie well. I laugh nervously.

  ‘Sorry, it’s just what I sometimes call you, to Ed. You know, after the dating website . . .’ I trail off and squeeze Ed’s hand, hoping for support, but he stares at me as though I’ve gone mad.

  ‘Are you all right, Zoe?’ Jane looks concerned. ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘No, no, sorry, I’m just nervous. Don’t know what I’m on about. Ignore me.’ I smooth my hands down the front of my skirt and turn to Becky, hoping my mistake will soon be forgotten. She’s clutching Gracie and Alfie’s hands.

  ‘Aunty Zoe!’ calls Gracie, and runs towards me, her ribboned plaits flying behind her. I bend down and open my arms and she runs right into them.

  ‘Hello, pretty girl,’ I say, hugging her.

  ‘You look really pretty too, Aunty Zoe,’ she says. ‘I like your dress. Do you like mine?’ She twirls round.

  ‘I think it’s absolutely beautiful.’ She beams broadly. I look down to see Alfie clinging shyly to Becky’s leg.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say hello to Aunty Zoe?’ she says, bending down.

  ‘Hello,’ he says, quietly.

  I crouch down to his level. ‘Hey, sweetheart, you look very handsome today. Can I have a cuddle?’

  He looks at Becky for approval, then steps forward and lets me envelop him. Feeling his little body in my arms, I can’t help but feel a pang. I know he loves me, but he’s terribly shy and is always like this when we first see each other. I try not to take it personally.

  When I stand up I see Ed being almost bowled over by Gracie. She adores her uncle Ed. He scoops her up and tips her upside down, the tulle layers of her dress flying everywhere, and she screams in delight. I smile at him, and he smiles back, the skin round his eyes crinkling softly as he brings Gracie back down to earth. I know he’s imagining what it would be like if we had our own child, and I try not to think about it as Gracie shouts ‘Again!’

  ‘No, come on, Gracie, leave Uncle Ed alone.’ Becky takes her daughter by the hand and leads her away, Gracie protesting all the way.

  Ed walks towards me and holds out his hand. Everyone has filed into the hall and they’re waiting for us to start.

  ‘Ready?’ he says.

  ‘Couldn’t be more ready.’ I grab his hand and clutch it tightly, and then we walk into the room to tell everyone how much we love each other.

  Later, at the pub nearby, the atmosphere is happy. The kids are running around the tiny garden, and I sit with Ed, Becky, Greg, Mum, Dad and Jane sinking a bottle of wine. It’s been a lovely day and I feel sad it’s already coming to an end. It’s starting to get chilly and I wrap Ed’s jacket round my shoulders, and he looks at me and smiles.

  ‘You OK?’ he mouths, and I nod.

  He looks happier than I’ve seen him in a long time, and certainly happier than the day he died, and it makes me want to freeze time and stay in this day forever. I’m trying not to think too much about the fact that time’s running out, that we’re nearly back at the day Ed died, but it’s almost impossible to ignore, like an insistent fly buzzing round my head.

  I sit back and listen to the chatter around me and watch the children playing. They’re huddled round some Lego bricks and seem completely immersed in whatever game they’ve made up. I try to imagine what it would be like if Ed and I had a child here too, joining in the fun and playing with their friends, but I just can’t seem to conjure up the image. I’m not sure I ever did truly believe I was going to become a mum, even the first time round.

  I look away and back at the table. Dad’s telling everyone a story about when I was a baby. I roll my eyes, pick up my glass and take a huge swig and try not to get cross. He’s just having fun.

  Soon it’s time for the younger children to go to bed, so Becky and Greg start to make a move. I wonder, as they gather their things, whether this is the last time I’ll see them again in this strange situation. Whether next time we meet I’ll be living the day for the first time – without Ed. I’m not sure I can even bear to think about it, not today.

  ‘Right sweetheart, we’re off,’ Becky says, leaning in to hug me with one arm, holding Alfie in the other. Her eyes twinkle with affection and drunkenness. ‘Thanks for a lovely day. I’m glad you’re happy.’ She hugs me again, stumbling as she bends to pick up her bag.

  ‘Oops, maybe Greg should take Alfie.’ She giggles as she hands him over, and shrugs her bag back onto her shoulder.

  ‘Bye, Becky, have a safe journey home,’ I grin. ‘Ring me tomorrow?’

  She gives the thumbs up and as they walk away Gracie yells, ‘Bye, Aunty Zoe,’ her arms waving like a windmill as they move through the pub and towards the door. I blow a kiss and she pretends to catch it and rubs it in her hair, and then they’re gone.

  I turn to the others.

  ‘Right, another round?’ I indicate their empty glasses.

  Dad stands unsteadily. ‘I’ll get these,’ he says. ‘Same again?’ He sweeps his arm over the table.

  ‘White wine, please,’ I say, lifting my glass up.

  ‘Me too.’ Mum.

  ‘Red wine, please.’ Ed.

  ‘Anything wet.’ Jane, sniggering.

  ‘Bottle of red and a bottle of white it is, then,’ Dad says, and makes his way through the thickening crowd towards the bar. It’s getting louder in here and we’re having almost to shout to make ourselves heard, but despite the terror I feel at knowing I’ll soon be without Ed, I’m actually having fun. I’ve missed my friends and family.

  Finally, Dad returns from the bar. He’s carrying two bottles of wine, and behind him a barman carries a tray holding champagne glasses and a silver bucket with a bottle resting in it.

  ‘It wouldn’t be a proper celebration without a bottle of champagne, would it?’ he says with a grin, setting the wine on the table. The barman carefully puts the tray down and Dad picks up the champagne bottle and starts to open it. The cork comes out with a huge pop and flies into the air, hitting the ceiling and narrowly missing a blonde woman standing nearby.

  ‘Oops,’ Dad says, and gives the woman a wink. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No worries,’ she says, and turns away. Dad pours the champagne sloppily into the waiting glasses, spilling more than he serves. It froths over the top and spreads across the wooden tabletop and he laughs.

  ‘Dad, shall I do it?’

  ‘Er, that might be a good idea.’ He hands the bottle over and I pick up each glass, pouring the wine at an angle into each one.

  ‘Get a lot of practice pouring champagne, do you?’ Dad says, watching me intently.

  ‘Yeah. Every night.’ I grin and hand Dad a glass. ‘That’s what us London types do.’

  ‘Course,’ he says, wrapping a fist round the stem of the glass.

  When everyone has one, Dad raises his voice. ‘Right, I want to say something.’ We all look at him, and for the first time this evening he looks serious.

  ‘I’m not one for speeches, as you know,’ he says. ‘But I just wanted to say that Zoe, Ed – ’ he raises his glass to each of us in turn – ‘we’re so glad you’ve sorted eve
rything out, me and your mum. We hated seeing you so sad.’ He pauses, looks at his glass for a moment. ‘And anyway, we were glad to get rid of her, she was making a right mess of the place.’

  Everyone laughs, and Dad raises his glass. ‘To Zoe and Ed. Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers!’ everyone yells, and we chink glasses and drink the bubbles. Tears well in my eyes and I feel stupid. Because I know that this happiness can’t last much longer. I know that, whatever happens, something is about to change.

  I just wish I knew what.

  Back at home later that evening, my head’s spinning from the excitement and the champagne. Mum and Dad are staying the night in our tiny spare bedroom, and I can hear Mum crashing about in the bathroom. Soft snores come from the bedroom and when I poke my head round Dad’s already fast asleep, taking up most of the sofa bed.

  I stumble into the kitchen and fill a glass with water, and down the whole lot. I’m just refilling it when I feel Ed’s arms wrap round me.

  ‘Oh!’ I jump and nearly spill the water all over the floor. ‘You scared me!’

  ‘Why, who did you think I was?’ he says, nuzzling into my neck.

  ‘Mmm, that feels nice.’

  He plants soft kisses down my neck and along my shoulder, and my whole body tingles.

  ‘Ed, not here.’ It takes all my willpower to say it. ‘Mum and Dad are in there.’

  I turn to face him and he carries on, moving his lips softly down towards my right breast. I groan, overcome with desire.

  I hardly have time to think about it, but the decision is almost instant anyway. Last time, I’d pushed him away, worried Mum and Dad would walk in on us. This time, I don’t care. I want him and this might be my last chance to feel his body against mine, to hold him and know he loves me. So I cup my hands around his face and kiss him deeply, then grab his hand and walk quickly towards our bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind us. His lips are instantly on me again, on my neck, my breast, down towards my stomach, and my whole body is filled with desire. I grab him tightly, pull him so close he’s almost part of me, and we fall onto the bed as one. And then I let go, and give in to him entirely, as though this is the last thing I’ll ever do.

  I want this night to go on forever, terrified that when I wake up, it will all be over. But finally, we’re done. We lie for a moment, staring at each other. Then, at last, I feel ready to let go. I lean towards him and whisper, ‘I love you. Please never leave me.’

  But his eyes are already closed, and he hasn’t heard me.

  There’s nothing else to do but sleep.

  18

  25 December 2012

  Usually, the sound of Christmas music – even Cliff Richard singing ‘Mistletoe and Wine’ – makes me feel happy. I love Christmas, and everything about it.

  But when I wake up this morning and hear Ed singing along to the Christmas CD, I feel sick. It’s nearly time. In six months’ time, Ed will be dead.

  I swallow and try to push the thought from my head, and instead think back to the things I’ve tried to change. I’ve tried to be kinder; I’ve tried to stop arguments; I’ve tried to confront problems, see people more, talk about the future; I’ve even had completely new experiences. But in the end, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t seem as though anything has changed much at all.

  Here we are still, for instance, on the Christmas before Ed died, and I can only assume he’s as cross with me as he was the first time round. It had been awful.

  Susan had been there; so had Mum and Dad, and Becky, Greg and the kids. The flat was too small for us all really, but we’d wanted to do it, so we’d squeezed everyone in.

  Ed and I had tried another round of IVF but there was still no sign of a baby, and we just didn’t seem capable of saying anything nice to each other. I’d been starting to wonder whether we should even be together any more. We’d sniped and snarked at each other all day, which meant that nobody had had fun, everyone chewing their roast potatoes in a strained silence. I shiver at the memory.

  This time, I’m going to make sure things are different. Even if it doesn’t change anything in the end, I can at least make today happy. And I can also have hope.

  I climb out of bed, grab my dressing gown from the back of the door and walk down the hallway to the kitchen. Ed’s dressed and is wearing the jumper I bought him with the snowman on the front, and my heart leaps at the sight of him. I sneak up behind him.

  ‘Boo!’ I yell, tweaking his sides as I jump up on him.

  ‘Argh!’ He drops the knife he’s holding and it clatters to the floor, narrowly missing his foot. ‘Jesus Christ, what are you trying to do, kill me?’

  I was right. He’s furious with me. Instead of reacting, I take a deep breath, determined not to cause a fight.

  ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t realize you had a knife in your hand.’ I bend down and pick it up, then place it back on the worktop. I put my hands on his waist and peer round him, trying to see what he’s up to.

  ‘What’s that? Something for me?’

  His face still looks like thunder.

  ‘Come on, show me.’ Silently, he moves across to let me see, his body stiff with rage. There on the worktop are some peeled potatoes and a pan of water.

  ‘Aw, thanks, Eddie, you’ve started making dinner.’ I reach up and put my arms round his neck. ‘Come on, let’s not be cross with each other. Give me a smile.’

  Finally unable to resist the onslaught of niceness, the corner of his mouth twitches and curls briefly upwards.

  ‘Come on . . .’ I tickle the back of his neck with my fingertips. ‘Let’s try and make this a lovely day. Even if it’s just one out of hundreds of awful days, let’s try and be nice today. What do you say?’

  He stands there, stiff as a board, watching me.

  ‘Yeah, OK,’ he mumbles, and turns back to the worktop and picks up the knife to start peeling potatoes again. It’s a small breakthrough, but it’s a start.

  I move into the lounge and switch the Christmas tree lights on, listening to Ed humming along to ‘Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree’.

  I shower and get dressed and when I come back through Ed is on the sofa, an open box of Cadbury Roses next to him, a pile of discarded wrappers on his other side. He looks up at me and his face softens.

  ‘Fancy one?’ He hands me a yellow toffee.

  ‘Yeah, but not that.’ I lean over and snatch a purple one from the pile in his lap.

  ‘Hey, that’s my favourite!’

  ‘Hoo hate, mine hoo,’ I say through a mouthful of chocolate.

  ‘Meanie.’ He grabs a nut whirl and pops the whole thing in his mouth, and for a couple of minutes neither of us can speak. I think maybe that’s for the best anyway. We don’t want or need to spend today agonizing over what’s gone wrong. We need to enjoy it for what it is.

  Ed stands and walks to the fridge. ‘Do you want some Buck’s Fizz?’ He holds up a bottle of champagne and a carton of orange juice.

  ‘Please.’

  Ed hands me a glass and holds his up to me. ‘To us. You’re right. Let’s make this Christmas special.’

  My shoulders sag with relief as we clink glasses and the cool liquid bubbles slide down my throat. ‘God, that’s delicious.’

  ‘Hmm.’

  We sit quietly for a few minutes, listening to cheesy Christmas tunes and watching the lights twinkle on the tree. My heart is heavy with the knowledge of what’s to come, but at the same time I can’t help feeling a sense of contentment that, even if I have failed to change the future, at least I have this memory now, rather than one of shouting and hate.

  My thoughts are interrupted by the shrill tone of the doorbell. Ed leaps up.

  ‘Right, party time.’

  I smile weakly. But I don’t have time to dwell as moments later Becky, Greg and the kids are bursting into the room.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Aunty Zoe!’ Gracie flings herself at my legs and I lift her in the air and she giggles wildly.

  �
��Happy Christmas, sweetheart.’

  ‘Aunty Zoe, guess what? Father Christmas has been and he brought me loads and loads of things. I did get a new doll’s house and some Playmobil with a swimming pool what you can put water in and everything, and he did bring me a new bike and a helmet and a bell to put on the front which is all pink and sparkly and shiny.’

  She pauses for breath and I laugh. ‘Blimey, it sounds as though Father Christmas has been very generous this year.’ Becky meets my eyes over the top of Gracie’s head and rolls her own skyward. ‘You have no idea.’

  The doorbell rings again and before we know it the place is full, with Mum and Dad and Susan all piled into our too-small living room, squashed onto sofas, spread out on the floor and filling every available space. And it’s bliss. It’s helped take away the anxiety, having everyone here and feeling happy, and as I look around the room at all the people I love, I’m glad they don’t know what’s to come. I’m glad they can have this moment of happiness to hold in their hearts forever.

  And I can’t help thinking, in a small corner of my mind, that maybe, just maybe, the fact that this day has turned out differently means there’s still a small chance that things might turn out differently in the end.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ Ed says, and raises his glass in the air.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ everyone choruses back.

  ‘Cheers!’ Gracie shouts, and everyone laughs. Christmas Day has begun.

  It’s dark outside and Ed and I are lying in bed, watching the moon through the open curtains. His breathing has slowed and I know he’ll be asleep soon. But I’m not ready to leave him yet and I’m trying to stay awake, to stay with him a few moments longer. My mind drifts back to earlier that day, just after we finished eating dinner. Ed had taken his last mouthful of Christmas pudding, then sat back, rubbing his belly and puffing his cheeks out. ‘Well, that’s that for another year then,’ he said, suppressing a burp. ‘I’m bloody stuffed.’

  ‘Ed, don’t swear in front of the kids,’ Susan hissed, nodding at Gracie and Alfie.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, they hear much worse from Greg, believe me,’ Becky said, giving her husband a wry smile. Greg had shrugged. ‘Yep, total potty mouth, that’s me.’